_Lop_.
We will be,
For we'll eat hard.
_Bar_.
The harder, the more welcome,
And till the morning farewell; I have business.
[_Exit_.
_Mil_.
Farewel good bountiful _Bartolus_, 'tis a brave wench,
A suddain witty thief, and worth all service:
Go we'll all go, and crucifie the Lawyer.
_Die_.
I'le clap four tire of teeth into my mouth more
But I will grind his substance.
_Ars_.
Well _Leandro_,
Thou hast had a strange Voyage, but I hope
Thou rid'st now in safe harbour.
_Mil_.
Let's go drink, Friends,
And laugh aloud at all our merry may-games.
_Lop_.
A match, a match, 'twill whet our stomachs better.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._
_Enter_ Violante _and_ Servant.
_Ser_.
Madam, he's come. [_Chair and stools out_.
_Viol_.
'Tis well, how did he look,
When he knew from whom you were sent? was he not startled?
Or confident? or fearful?
_Ser_.
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